Regency Admirer/The Merry Gentleman/The Gentleman's Demand

by Meg Alexander

  Elizabeth shook her head. “When he approached you, it was out of desperation. He may have changed his mind now that I am safe in England.”

  She hated herself for the prevarication. She should have had the courage to tell Perry that she could never become his wife, but she could not do it. Even now, at the last, she was hoping for some miracle which would remove Cesare from her life, leaving her to seize her happiness with both hands.

  When he spoke again, Perry’s voice was grave.

  “You must be honest with me,” he said quietly. “Have you still some reservations? You misjudge your father. He would not have offered you in marriage unless he believed that it would mean your happiness.”

  “It isn’t only that!” she murmured. “Won’t you give me time? I had not expected...I didn’t think you loved me.”

  “Can you doubt it?” Gently Perry removed her from his lap. Then he rose to his feet. “Your aunt was right. I should have taken her advice and waited. You don’t yet trust in the strength of my affection.”

  He waited, hoping for a denial, but Elizabeth did not speak.

  “Shall we go?” he said. With extreme formality he bowed and led her from the room.

  Elizabeth’s misery knew no bounds. It needed no words of his to tell her that she had wounded him to the heart. She could only guess at the depths of his disappointment. It was no deeper than her own. She could not have suffered more if a knife had been thrust into her breast.

  She longed to run away, to escape from the cruel fates which seemed determined to pursue her, yet all about her the merriment continued. In disbelief she heard the chimes of a long-case clock. It was still too early to plead exhaustion and beg to be taken home.

  Besides, the Prince of Wales was due at any moment. Miss Grantham would not commit the social gaffe of leaving before his arrival.

  “There you are, my dear.” Miss Grantham was engaged in conversation with the Earl of Brandon. “We were beginning to think that you had vanished. Now here is yet another partner come to claim you...” She nodded pleasantly to a young man who was waiting at some little distance, and turned back to the Earl.

  Had she noticed nothing amiss? Elizabeth could not believe it. In these last few hours her world had been turned to dust and ashes. Forcing a mechanical smile, she allowed herself to be led out to join in the quadrille.

  Meantime, Perry leaned against a pillar, scanning the crowded room.

  “Looking for someone, old chap?”

  Perry turned to find Lord Christopher beside him.

  “Count Cesare di Tavola. Have you seen him?”

  “Can’t say that I know him, but the name sounds familiar. Ain’t he Elizabeth’s friend?”

  “That I take leave to doubt. Didn’t you see him dancing with her?” There was a note in Perry’s voice which filled Chris with alarm.

  “You mean that capering creature with the rainbow waistcoat? Hard to miss him, really. He looks like a popinjay with all those frills and fobs. Can’t be him, though. Ain’t he still in Italy?”

  “He’s here!” Perry said briefly. “Chris, will you act for me?”

  “Pleasure, old chap, as long as Elizabeth is not involved! Can’t have a lady’s name brought into this. The story would be all round London.”

  “Elizabeth will not be mentioned. I believe that I have taken exception to his waistcoat.”

  “You will when you see it, but you can’t fight him, Perry. The fellow ain’t a gentleman. He may call himself a Count, but he looks like a mountebank to me. Besides, he lives in a tree. Dashed bad ton, I call it!”

  If Chris had hoped that his attempt at humour would raise a smile, he was mistaken. Perry’s face grew even darker.

  “He won’t avoid a thrashing!”

  “Same thing applies. In these past few days you’ve squired Elizabeth about. Dash it, man, you can’t thrash him because he danced with her. You know what the world will say.”

  “Suppose I tell you that she has suffered violence at his hands? Her wrist still bears the marks. Stand aside! I think I see him.”

  “Wait!” Chris laid a hand upon his arm. “Do you tell me that he was trying to coerce her?” He sounded deeply shocked.

  Perry disengaged himself. “He shall answer to me for that!”

  “Not here! Let’s take a turn about the terrace. I fancy blowing a cloud.”

  “At a time like this?” Perry sneered.

  “Especially at a time like this. There’s something devilish smoky here. Did you ask her why he tried to force her?”

  Perry shook his head. “She was too distraught. I tried to comfort her, and much good it did me.” His face was a mask of anguish.

  Chris took his arm and drew him out on to the terrace.

  “Think, man, think! Don’t it strike you as odd? Elizabeth is no milk-and-water miss. Something must have frightened her.”

  Perry stared at him. “Perhaps he tried to kiss her. They were once betrothed.”

  “You ain’t thinking straight. Why would she struggle if she still loves him?”

  “I don’t know.” Perry leaned against the stone balustrade. His thoughts were in turmoil.

  “She don’t, you know. It’s you she wants. Are you blind? You and she have been smelling of April and May for long enough.”

  “I’m not so sure. She won’t agree to marry me.”

  “You’ve asked her again?”

  “I did, and she refused. I should be used to it by now, but it doesn’t get any easier.”

  “There must be some reason. Sounds to me as if she had an argument with this so-called Count, and a violent one at that. He may have come for her, and been rejected. Cheer up, old lad! He ain’t in any position to force her into marriage, unless...” The implications of what he’d been about to say caused the words to die upon his lips.

  “Were you about to tell me that he might have some hold upon her?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions!” Chris backed away before the look on Perry’s face. “We know nothing yet, but we could find out.”

  “How? I won’t confront Elizabeth with such a slur upon her character.”

  “I didn’t mean anything like that. I was thinking that we might get the fellow to damn himself out of his own mouth.”

  “Unlikely! He’s a cunning devil.”

  “But suppose we set a trap? If we could lure him into another interview with Elizabeth?”

  “Out of the question! I won’t expose her to further violence.”

  “She’d be in no danger if you were in the room...say, behind a screen?”

  “I don’t like it. It’s an underhand way of going on.”

  Chris summoned all his courage. “Afraid of what you might hear?” he asked.

  He had expected an explosion of wrath, but to his astonishment, Perry smiled.

  “I love her, Chris,” he answered quietly. “Nothing Elizabeth could say or do will alter that, but I have no fears. She is as honest as the day.”

  “Then you agree? Think quickly! Is there some anteroom where you might be undisturbed?”

  Perry walked further along the terrace and entered the study by the long French windows. “In here, I think. How are we to go about it?”

  Chris looked about the room. “This screen will serve, if you crouch down. I’ll move this lamp closer to the door, so that you are in shadow. Keep quiet, and leave the rest to me...”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Chris re-entered the ballroom, the music suddenly died away. A hush descended on the crowd, and then he heard the sound of clapping.

  Looking up, he saw the figure of the Prince of Wales, making his way down the centre of the room with the Earl of Brandon by his side.

  At any other time Chris might have shown more interest in the heir to the throne, but he did not spare a second glance for the fair-haired man who smiled so graciously upon his fellow guests.

  He made his way to Elizabeth’s side. Her pallor was alarming, and caused her aunt to whisper to her bef
ore the royal party reached them.

  “My dear, the Prince will not eat you. His charm is legendary.” Clearly she ascribed her niece’s ashen look to a mixture of shyness and excitement.

  Chris gripped Elizabeth’s elbow. “Hold on!” he murmured. “There is no need for you to worry. All will be well, I promise.”

  He doubted if she had understood his words of reassurance. She was swaying on her feet.

  “Perry tells me that you didn’t get your lemonade,” he continued. “When this is over, you shall sit quietly and I will fetch you a drink.”

  She gave him a look of gratitude, but he didn’t see it. He was scanning the room for his quarry.

  Pray heaven that the Count had not already left. No, there he was, pushing to the forefront of the crowd and smirking in anticipation.

  The fellow hopes to be presented, Chris thought indignantly. If so, he had reckoned without the Earl of Brandon. That gentleman looked through him as he and the Prince drew level. It was a studied insult, and the Count’s face darkened.

  Would he leave in anger? Chris could not contain his impatience as the royal guest moved on. Must he chat to everyone for so long?

  When he reached them at last, Chris made his bow. Then he stood aside as Miss Grantham and her niece were presented.

  Elizabeth was surprised to find that Prince George and her aunt stood upon such easy terms. She sank to the floor in a deep curtsy, blushing at his compliments.

  “You’ve been hiding this jewel, Mary,” the Prince was pleased to say. “I shall take you to task for that.”

  “Your Royal Highness is very kind.” Miss Grantham was unabashed. She had known the young man since he was a child. She liked him, appreciating his patronage of the arts, whilst deploring his extravagance and his constant feuding with his father.

  When the Prince moved away, Chris spoke out. “May I take Elizabeth to supper, ma’am? She must be parched and hungry...”

  “She does look pale,” Miss Grantham agreed. “Go with Lord Christopher, my dear. Some refreshment will restore you.”

  Elizabeth allowed herself to be led away. She felt that she was moving in a trance. This was some dreadful dream from which she must awaken.

  “Not the dining-room,” she whispered. “I could not eat...the food would choke me.”

  “Shall you care to walk out on the terrace?” he suggested. “It will be cooler there, and further along there is a quiet room. You could rest for a time, and I will fetch your lemonade.”

  She made no protest, nor did she speak again, and his suspicions grew. Something was sadly wrong here. Were he and Perry right to subject her to another ordeal?

  At that moment he could have strangled the Count with his bare hands, but there was no time to lose. Even now, the fellow might be calling for his carriage.

  Once in the study he glanced towards the screen, noting with satisfaction that it was obscured by shadows. There was neither sight nor sound of Perry. With what seemed to him to be ungallant haste he excused himself, but Elizabeth did not notice. She sat in the wing-chair, gazing into space.

  So far, so good! Now he must find the Count. To his dismay, the fellow seemed to have vanished. Then his eye fell upon his quarry. The man was taking part in a quadrille.

  Chris was blessed with an equable temperament, but now his anger knew no bounds. The fellow would soon be dancing to a different tune, he thought with satisfaction.

  As the dance ended he touched the Count upon the shoulder.

  “Sir, I am charged with a message for you from Miss Elizabeth Grantham. She begs that you will wait upon her in the study.”

  An arch smile greeted his words. “These ladies, my dear sir! So mysterious! What are we to do with them?”

  Chris was sorely tempted to plant him a facer. The fellow was actually preening himself. Instead he nodded. “You know the way?”

  “No. I shall be obliged if you will show me.”

  “A pleasure, sir.” This was true, although Chris did not specify exactly in what his pleasure lay.

  His companion took the words for the well-known courtesy of an English gentleman.

  When they reached the study, Chris threw open the door and motioned to the Count to enter. He would have given much to be behind the screen with Perry, but he could only wait. He had carried out his own part in the plan to expose this insufferable creature.

  As it was, he heard only the Count’s first words to Elizabeth.

  “Well, my dear? Are you come to your senses at last?”

  Startled, Elizabeth gazed at him in horror.

  “Has the cat got your tongue?” he demanded. “Since you sent for me, I am come for your decision.”

  “Sent for you?” she whispered. “I did not send for you.”

  “Odd! Some fellow told me that you wished to see me.” He was too sure of his power over her for the least suspicion to cross his mind. “It is no matter. He must have seen us dancing together and decided to play Cupid. The English, I find, have a perverted sense of humour.”

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she cried in desperation. “Please go away!”

  “Still clinging to the hope that I won’t carry out my threats, my love? What an innocent you are! You may rid yourself of that idea. A word from me, dropped in the right circles, and you will never lift your head again.”

  “But it is lies! All lies! You were never admitted to my bedchamber. All that ever passed between us was romantic nonsense. You sent me flowers...you kissed my hand...but that was all.”

  “I know that, and so do you, but will the world believe it? What a little fool you were! Have you not learned that you must not play with fire?”

  “I’ve learned how contemptible you are. You disgust me!” Elizabeth’s chin went up. “Don’t think that you can frighten me, you...you spy!”

  The Count had taken a step towards her, but he stopped. “Dear me!” he murmured softly. “You are a greater danger than I thought. Where did you hear such rumours?” His voice was silky with menace.

  “They aren’t rumours. They are the truth. Where did you get the money for your clothing and your jewels?”

  “One makes shift where one can, my dear. How can I keep you in the manner to which you are accustomed without a handsome fortune...in addition to your own, I mean?”

  “Then you don’t deny it?”

  “Within these four walls? No! It would be pointless, but it cannot signify. You have no proof, and even if you had, a wife cannot testify against her husband.”

  “I shall never be your wife. You may spread your evil calumnies. To be disgraced is preferable to being married to a monster of depravity.”

  “Brave words, my dear, but they won’t save you.” He came towards her then, and she put out a hand to fend him off.

  “Take care!” she cried. “Your activities are known to others—”

  “Really?” He seized her arm and twisted it behind her back. “Give me their names.”

  A gasp of pain escaped Elizabeth’s lips. Then, before she could reply, the searing agony stopped.

  To her astonishment the Count was lifted high, and shaken as a terrier might shake a rat.

  Dreadful choking sounds issued from his lips, and his face grew purple.

  Elizabeth looked at the bulging eyes, and then she grabbed at Perry’s arm.

  “Stop!” she cried. “You’ll kill him. My darling, he isn’t worth it!”

  For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. This was a man she didn’t know. Perry was beyond all reason, and there was murder in his expression.

  “Leave him!” she urged again. “He won’t escape the law! Will you have his blood upon your hands?”

  The red light faded from Perry’s eyes. Then he threw the limp figure from him.

  “I should break his neck! Did he injure you, my love?”

  “No, no!” Elizabeth seized his hand and held it to her cheek. He kissed it briefly, and moved her aside.

  The Count had struggled to his
hands and knees, but he did not dare to rise.

  “Get up, you cur! Would you attack a woman? Try me instead! I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!”

  Desperate for some way of escape, Cesare glanced about the study, but the door was closed, and Perry stood between himself and the open window.

  “Get up, I say, or must I kick you from this room?”

  “Strong words, Perry!” The Earl of Brandon strolled in from the terrace. “What is this person doing upon his hands and knees? Am I disturbing some unusual amusement?” He picked up the lamp and advanced into the room.

  “This is a trap!” Cesare found his voice at last. “I might have known it! You English! You think you are so clever!”

  An ominous silence greeted his words. He rose to his feet, and loosened the cravat which had come so close to strangling him.

  “You haven’t heard the last of this,” he threatened. “I am an Italian national. When my Ambassador learns that I was offered violence here tonight, it will cause a diplomatic incident!”

  “Violence, my dear sir? Were there witnesses?” The Earl smiled upon his guest. “I thought you merely searching for that rather splendid ruby tie-pin which now seems to have disappeared...”

  “Very clever, my noble lord, but you won’t save your brother. He was about to kill me!”

  “Extraordinary! And for no reason, sir? You must take more care of your person. Such a pity that London is become so dangerous!”

  The Count’s face grew dark with rage. “Would you threaten me? You and your family will regret it.”

  “Do you think so? We can scarce be held responsible for those cutthroats who lurk about the streets at night, or the actions of a press-gang...”

  “You would not dare!” A muscle began to twitch beside Cesare’s mouth, and his face grew pale with terror. He looked at the Earl of Brandon’s face, but he saw no mercy there.

  “Our guest might enjoy a sea-trip,” Perry suggested smoothly. “After all, he is so interested in the movements of our shipping. A voyage would be just the thing for him.”

  The Count backed slowly towards the door, a pistol appearing in his hand. It was levelled at Elizabeth’s heart.

  “Stand back!” he ordered. “If you value her life, you won’t try to rush me.”